


A Minor Inconvenience Turned Major Occupational Hazard

by Aikori_Ichijouji, AkisMusicBox



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Curse Breaking, Geralt keeps breaking his hair tie, I heard you like portals, M/M, Romeo and Juliet References, Weddings, and we wrote a whole story about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikori_Ichijouji/pseuds/Aikori_Ichijouji, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: She grinned. "Don't look so grim. It's a wedding. The families are fierce enemies but the two fell desperately in love." She rolled her eyes. "His family wishes to ensure that she is fertile and not already with child. Her family wishes to ensure his family won't cause drunken brawls for days on end. And, there is a sea of children that need entertaining so they don't run amok through the city."Yennefer needs assistance with her latest quest. Geralt and Jaskier can't turn down the opportunity for proper beds and warm baths.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96





	1. When it Eventually Happens

Taking out an entire rotfiend lair was enough of an annoyance. The putrid smell was suffocating and felt like it invaded his very pores. To say nothing of the fact that these rotfiends tended to prefer hiding in deep caverns, so the lack of fresh air only compounded the problem. It was made worse by a minor inconvenience turned major occupational hazard.

The leather tie holding back Geralt’s hair had broken.

The job seemed to take twice as long as he had to push locks of hair out of his eyes after every kill. Each time there were more of them, the strands stickier and heavier with blood and dirt. In spite of that, Geralt pushed ahead, if only for the promise of a semi-decent bath upon his return to town. Still, this was seeming less and less worth the two hundred Crowns he’d been promised with each passing second.

He trudged back to where he left Roach with Jaskier only to find a newcomer had joined them. Geralt didn’t bother to muffle his exasperated groan upon recognizing the raven hair of their visitor. She always had a knack for awful timing.

“Who invited her?” Geralt asked, making eye contact with neither of them and going straight to his saddle bags to pack away his swords.

“Certainly not me,” Jaskier piped up from where he stood beside the horse, petting its neck. “She appeared like she always does. You know, loud portals, even louder demands and not so much as a ‘how’ve you been’ for the trouble.”

He heard Yennefer scoff and Geralt bit back a smile before turning to regard the sorceress. Noticing the hair still hanging in his face, he started pulling it back into the half ponytail he favored. Holding the gathered strands in one hand, he extended his other towards Jaskier. The bard wasted no time in removing the leather band he had tied to his wrist and passing it to him.

“What?” he asked when he noticed the bewildered look on Yennefer’s face.

She waved a hand in front of her face. “Is Jaskier now your designated valet for hair accessories? You both act as if this is a regular occurrence.

Jaskier shrugged. “Often enough that I began to keep a few on me for when it eventually happens.

"Why don't you just become his barber while you're at it?” Yennefer asked with a snort. “Shave his beard, cut his hair, darn his clothes?"

Geralt and Jaskier exchanged a long, cool look that drew on for too long, if Yennefer’s incredulous huff was anything to go by. At least two of out of those three things had already happened. Technically, the third one did, too, when Jaskier had to free Geralt after his hair once got snagged in a tree. None of it seemed out of the ordinary.

Yennefer blinked and looked at Jaskier. "And what does he give you in return? An appreciative grunt? Kiss on the forehead? Ruffles your hair and calls you a good boy like his other beast of burden?" She pointed to Roach.

"He gives me the pleasure of his company." Jaskier paused to throw a sidelong glance at Geralt. "Such as it is. I'm not like you two; not everything I do for someone requires any sort of payment."

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't self-deprecating enough to consider himself bad company, but pleasurable? Useful, at best. He provided Jaskier with adventures to sing about. Protection from time to time. A respite from nobles who did nothing but talk about themselves.

But Geralt was raised to avoid charity if at all possible. "Is there anything you need my assistance with, Jaskier? I don't like to have outstanding debts."

"I mean, I wouldn't turn down a stop in Oxenfurt—or Novigrad." He turned in a slow circle, pointing this way and that. "I'm actually a bit turned around so I don't recall which is closest right now. Anyhow, unless you want to turn some beast entrails into lute strings for me, I'll need a place where I can purchase a new set. Mine are getting a bit dodgy if I'm honest."

"That... that's all?" Geralt asked, bewildered. He was fully ready for Jaskier to come up with something ridiculous that probably involved him donning his least favorite types of clothing. "You're in need of nothing else?"

Jaskier just shook his head and proceeded to untie a scrap of leather from the neck of his lute and retie it around his wrist where the previous piece had been.

"Well, I need your assistance," Yennefer spoke up.

Jaskier looked up in time to catch Geralt's eyes and they exchanged another look saturated with words that needed no vocalization. Yennefer had appeared out of thin air, as she often liked to do. Which meant she was looking for them.

"We figured as much," Geralt and Jaskier groaned in perfect unison.

"Don't fret," Yennefer said in a way that did nothing to console Geralt. "My business is in Oxenfurt as well. There's even compensation in it for the both of you. But we must make haste to be there as soon as possible."

"What type of business?" Geralt asked.

She grinned. "Don't look so grim. It's a wedding. The families are fierce enemies but the two fell desperately in love." She rolled her eyes. "His family wishes to ensure that she is fertile and not already with child. Her family wishes to ensure his family won't cause drunken brawls for days on end. And, there is a sea of children that need entertaining so they don't run amok through the city." She eyed Geralt up and down. "You'll need a day at least to scrape the stench off of you before I even present you to the families." Her eyes darted to Jaskier. "You're looking a bit scruffy yourself. Fix whatever this is." She gestured to his fringe.

Jaskier looked over to Geralt. "Seems easy enough? And there will be real pillows to rest your head on, not just Roach's hindquarters."

Geralt groaned. "I was drunk." He exhaled. "Fine. But no bloody po—"

A swirling void of fire and power ripped open the air. Roach whinnied in protest. "Grab your things, spell your horse calm, and hurry up!" she said. "The wedding's in three days."


	2. Proper Uniting

Geralt heard Jaskier curse sharply behind him as his head was yanked backward for the twelfth time.

"Perhaps Yen was right and I should go to a barber to have it cut."

It wasn't much of an expense, but the two of them had resolutely settled themselves into a life of frugality during their travels. Jaskier’s adaptation to the practice was something Geralt never stopped to marvel at with each passing day. He always seemed the type to be extravagant with his coin. Still, he was the one who insisted Geralt needed no such services and that he was happy to tend to the witcher's hair himself.

"Like hell you are," Jaskier snapped, rasping the brush through the ends of Geralt's hair. "Besides, it's not about your hair. I just realized I've scant few songs I can sing in front of wee ones that aren't laden with... inappropriate content."

A quiet laugh rumbled through Geralt. "Perhaps the men in your ballads can plow a virgin field for once instead of a maiden."

"Oh ha bloody ha, Geralt." Jaskier swatted at Geralt's hair with the brush in retaliation. "But that's not a bad idea, actually."

Geralt felt the brush pass through his hair once more, smoothly this time, from scalp to ends. He suppressed a sigh.

"So, how does our wedding bouncer want his hair?" Jaskier asked in a voice light with amusement. "Up? Down? Perhaps a few festive plaits?"

"The usual is fine," Geralt grunted.

Jaskier's pout was audible. "You never let me have any fun."

Geralt was about to ask why he hadn't let himself have any fun the past few days, either. He had assumed that Jaskier would have been spending time reliving his university days and cavorting with old friends but, for the most part, he spent time playing in the inns and taverns.

Yennefer's job had been completed swiftly, so she spent most of her time preparing and selling hangover cures and contraceptives as quickly as she could. Geralt ended up having to carry most of the supplies whenever she needed to restock. "What else would you be doing?" she asked on their second trip. "Sitting on another bench, drinking another beer, hearing the same songs you've heard a thousand times? Keep yourself limber."

"You really should keep on this. People are going to call you the Bald Wolf at this rate." Jaskier pulled a clump of hair out of the bristles and shook it at him.

"As long as there's enough to pull back, doesn't matter."

Jaskier simply sighed. A few deft twists later, he said, "Done." He handed Geralt a small mirror. Geralt swore that the binding felt a bit tighter than usual, but he looked clean and respectable, so that's all that mattered.

He handed the mirror back to Jaskier. "You going to trim your hair as Yen asked?"

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "Do you think it's necessary?"

"Not at all."

Jaskier smirked. He looked in the mirror and tousled his fringe. Perish the thought that he looks too clean-cut, Geralt thought. "Let's get going then," he said. "We've got two very anxious mothers and two ill-tempered fathers to put at ease before the ceremonies begin."

Since neither family could agree on who should host the festivities, they compromised by paying another noble for the use of their expansive estate with sprawling gardens and lavish rooms. They met up with Yennefer in the banquet hall of the main house. She was already deep in a conversation between the parents of the bride and groom and everyone turned their attention to them upon the butler announcing their arrival. Geralt felt even more uncomfortable in the doublet Jaskier and Yennefer foisted upon him.

Having the White Wolf of legend as their designated peacekeeper was, apparently, a smart choice on Yennefer's part. The fathers were satisfied to have respectable muscle presiding over the affair. The mothers, well, they were mostly happy Geralt was easier on the eyes than the usual ruffians one picks up along the docks for this type of job. Even Jaskier received a warm welcome as a returning 'Oxenfurt Boy,' or so he'd been dubbed.

Everything was going just a little too well for Geralt to not become suspicious. Yennefer even enchanted Jaskier's lute with strangely specific instructions for him to play a lullaby in a certain key to send his tiny wards to sleep in the event that he needed a break. When Jaskier was shown to the playroom he was to stay in with the children until he was needed for the reception, Geralt cornered the sorceress.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Yennefer let out a high, airy laugh. "Geralt, must you always be so mistrustful? It's just a wedding!"

"A wedding that somehow requires the presence of a witcher, a mage, and a bard with a spell-enhanced lute?" Geralt growled. "This isn't just a wedding and you know it, Yen. What's really going on?"

"I suppose I can excuse your ignorance this one time," Yennefer said. "Though you witchers pretending like the affairs of man don't affect your monster hunting is ridiculous." She crossed her arms. "The feud between the Montag and Capulette families goes back generations. Anytime those two families cross paths, destruction reigns, largely due to a curse that can be broken by uniting the families. Now, those families are alike in pigheadedness and self-importance hence why it's taken all this time to even come to some sort of marriage arrangement. It's said that if the curse is broken, the families will expect ten thousand years of peace and just as many grandchildren, regardless of how far they roam."

"Horse shit," Geralt growled.

"Yes, indeed, the last bit is," Yennefer said, crossing her arms. "But not having destruction follow your families is a boon. However, we were taught that curses that have festered for so long can cause phenomenal disturbances in Chaos when resolved. And through those cracks might slip any sort of monster."

Geralt rubbed his forehead. "And yet the family insisted on a large ceremony at neither of their own properties?"

Yennefer shrugged. "It's their first borns' wedding. Besides, it's a 'might' on the monsters. Nobody's been able to prove or disprove a thing because getting your hands on a case to study is a tad difficult, to say the least."

Geralt snorted. "And why do you care to study this subject? Seems far from your primary interests."

Yennefer's expression grew sour. "If I can figure something out that the Brotherhood's bloody Research department can't, then I can get my name taken off of the blacklist and gain access to some real resources. Kill me a monster that will do that, Geralt, and I'll buy your bard a golden lute for all I care."

"I almost regret asking," Geralt admitted, surprised that he'd done so aloud.

"Maybe one day you'll be invited to a ceremony that doesn't end with you being saddled with an unexpected child or having to slay a monster," Yennefer drawled in a patronizing tone while patting his cheek with a hand. "But it might not be today."

"Reading my mind again?"

Yennefer shook her head, a tiny smile on her lips. "No. Sometimes you're just an open book when you allow yourself to be. Though I dare say Jaskier's become much better at it that I have these days."

With that, they went their separate ways. Because, as Geralt soon found out, his primary job was to make sure the groom made it to the ceremony unharmed. Warring families meant that there were still dissenters who wanted nothing more than to disrupt the proceedings. Yennefer was similarly assigned to the bride.

It took only a few menacing glares to dissuade the first two interlopers from trying anything. The third only ran off after Geralt added a loud growl. All in all, not a very strenuous effort was required to get the groom to the ceremony in time to await his betrothed. Yennefer, of course, made a big show of having the bride enter via a portal. Geralt wanted to sigh but, after seeing the poor young girl looking greener than a drowner, he was mostly sympathetic.

He spotted Jaskier from where he stood, a little off to the side of the main event. The bard was surrounded by a gaggle of wide-eyed children who were all being eerily well-behaved. He wondered if the man had woven them a tale of vengeful monsters torn straight from a witcher's bestiary to keep them in line. The barely-there wink Jaskier gave him all but confirmed it.

As the officiant droned on, presiding over the ceremony, Geralt let his gaze flit over to where Yennefer was. She was a vision in her sleek black dress, but she wasn't looking at him. Her attention was captured by the couple as she waited for their union to finally be made official. So he looked back at Jaskier. He was busy whispering something to the little girl with rosy cheeks and golden ringlets standing next to him that made her giggle. But his demeanor shifted as if he felt Geralt's stare on him and he stiffened.

Their gaze met over the heads of the attendees who filled the distance between them. It wasn't the first time they'd unconsciously known the other was watching and sought them out, but it was a wonder all the same. The officiant was still waxing about love and unions and he saw Jaskier roll his eyes as if to say that he'd have come up with something far more poetic and beautiful. In spite of himself, Geralt huffed a silent laugh and smiled.

* * *

At the reception in the garden, Geralt helped himself to a celebratory ale as the guests filtered in. Yennefer found his side and sighed. "Well, that was positively boring."

Geralt chuckled. "Forbid the couple merely enjoy the day before the yolk of familial duty hangs heavy on them."

"I don't understand," she said. "I felt something, did you not?"

"Ah, has dear Yenna been caught up by the officiant’s words?" Jaskier asked, two goblets of wine in hand and his lute on his back.

He handed Yennefer one of the goblets and she took it. "We were talking about the breaking of the curse."

Geralt winced. He hadn't been able to explain the situation to Jaskier before the ceremony and he'd hoped to have skirted the topic altogether if possible. He'd wanted Jaskier to actually believe that it was possible to attend some sort of event with him without it turning into a life or death situation.

Jaskier gasped. "The curse is real?!"

"You knew there was a curse?" Geralt asked.

"The Montag and Capulette curse might as well be mother’s milk to a young songwriter," Jaskier scoffed. "Did you not know?"

"It was more of a surprise to him than the actual breaking of it," Yennefer said, then drank deeply.

Geralt shrugged. "My medallion barely moved when they kissed."

Jaskier bit his lip. Geralt narrowed his eyes. "Talk, bard. What are you thinking?"

His fingers tapped on his goblet. "Perhaps the mages heard a different telling of the tale, but the way I heard it told didn't indicate that a mere matrimonial kiss would do the trick. I mean, plenty of marriages exist without proper... uniting."

Yennefer sighed. "Just say 'consummation', you sound ridiculous. But, you do make a fair point..." She raised an eyebrow at Geralt. "Might want to slow down until the bedding ceremony, Big Bad Wolf."


	3. Confines Too Tight

None of them were strangers to brothels and the like, but this wasn’t a scenario any of them would have foreseen, or chosen. Geralt could tell that much from the uneasy looks his companions wore. All three of them had gathered in the small room situated next to the bridal suite, despite Geralt assuring them that he'd be fine on his own. Thus, they all tried to pass the time as nonchalantly as they could.

Yennefer looked the most composed, draped over a long bench beside a window and reading a book she'd appropriated from the house's library. Jaskier propped himself on a stool in one corner and tried to quietly replace his lute strings while wearing a discomfited frown the entire time. Geralt sat on the ground by the door and sharpened his swords with a whetstone, also frowning.

"I wish they'd crack on with it already," Yennefer complained in a hushed voice over her book. "Surely they've enough raging hormones between them to get the job done."

"What if they're shy?" Jaskier whispered back. "I would be if I knew people waited just outside my bedchamber to make sure I'd done the deed."

"Well, the groom is certainly a milquetoast piece of work," Yennefer admitted. "But I think the bride will have things well in hand."

The sound of a thump and some excited mutterings from next door interrupted their conversation.

"Well, she'll have something in hand, at least." Geralt quipped from his spot on the floor.

Jaskier's weak laugh filtered through the room. "Sounds a lot like my first time."

Yennefer joined in with a dry cackle. "Indeed."

"I'm surprised you still remember, Yen. How many decades has it even been for you?"

A soft snort came from the mage. "You never forget your first. Right, Geralt?"

"Sometimes I wish I could," he gruffly remarked, trying to banish the resurfacing memories of the grungy brothel his fellow witchers dragged him to in his youth.

"Oh, that sounds like a story we absolutely must hear," Jaskier scoffed. "Come on. Out with it."

Geralt was about to tell them both to leave it alone when another series of thumps echoed through the room. His eyes widened when he felt the telltale vibration in his pendant. In an instant he was on his feet, sharpening tools forgotten on the floor and his sword gripped in his hand.

"Perhaps another time."

Yennefer set her book aside and eyed the door. "This is a bit of a tricky situation, isn't it? The curse may not break if we disrupt them, but if the beasts appear in there—"

"Not a problem!" Jaskier said, pointing out of the window.

There Geralt saw it—a crack appeared in the air above the garden with the same fire licking at its edges that Geralt had come to hate. Out of it spilled a mess of armored endrega.

Geralt turned to Yennefer. "Guard the couple. The portal must close and I guess that is related to their... activities."

Yennefer nodded, resigned. "Get me the head of a queen, at least. And Jaskier, get me a count of the number of them."

Jaskier nodded and turned to go. Geralt put a hand on his chest to stop him. "What are you doing?"

"Helping," he answered. "I usually figure out something worthwhile."

"It's going to be a mess out there," Geralt said, grabbing a potion from his bag. "Mostly fire, but plenty of carnage. You can stay put."

"Move it!" Yennefer hollered. "I'm going to have to place them in a soundproof barrier at this rate."

They both bolted down the hallway. "Jaskier, you need to stay safe," Geralt cautioned.

"Why do you assume I'll be a burden?!" Jaskier snapped.

"I—" They were nearing the garden at that point, hearing the _schnict schnict schnict_ of their pincers in the distance. "Why do you assume I'm not presentable in the city?"

Jaskier balked. "Where did _that_ come from?"

Geralt chugged a Swallow, then said, "This is place is like home to you, is it not? You don't want to spend the time visiting old friends? Or do you not want to explain me to them, so you avoid it by working constantly?"

They made it to the garden, which was slowly being shredded by the beasts. The crack in Chaos still lingered.

"Your hair," Jaskier said.

Geralt drew his sword, one eye on the endregas, one on Jaskier. "Must you persist on that subject? There is no purpose to belaboring..." Then, Geralt stopped. Then, he put his free hand on the leather tie keeping his hair pulled back.

His fingers grazed some sort of engraved, cold metal. Geralt swallowed.

"A gift," Jaskier said, arms wide. "Because who actually gives you gifts without asking for something in return." His eyes shot past Geralt. "I count six already and the portal has no signs of closing."

Geralt nodded. "Hold that thought." He spun on a heel and charged the endregas.

After slicing the legs out from under three of them, he pushed them over with the shove of a heavy boot. They wriggled helplessly on their backs, allowing him to focus on the remainder. The next two were dispatched by decapitation and a well-placed blade through the eye socket. It hadn’t been too awful, as far as hordes of monsters go, but he could see the sheen of oil along his sword disappearing in places.

He searched the night for the sixth, his eyes darting back and forth into the darkness. The sound of chittering was still quite loud, so he knew it was close. Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, letting his other senses take over. When he’d locked in on the position of the last monster, his stomach twisted in his gut. It was behind him and near where he’d left Jaskier standing.

Whipping around, Geralt started to run. He didn’t stop until his legs carried him over an upturned wheelbarrow and onto the low roof of a shed. The beast hadn’t noticed him until it was too late. It was mid-turn when he launched himself off the roof and drove his sword through the top of its skull.

“Jaskier?” he called out while yanking his sword free. “Are you all right?”

No reply came. He scanned the area for any sign of the bard and found nothing. Nothing except the whistling of the wind, the roar of the portal, and that incessant chittering. His thoughts ground to a halt when the final sound registered and he looked back at the portal.

More endregas were pouring into the garden. There were at least a dozen of them.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Well, at least he’d recently sharpened his sword.

He could feel that his potion had half run its course and doubted there would be enough reserves for him to tackle all of them effectively. He didn’t want to abandon his search for Jaskier but, with the number of enemies approaching, he had little choice. The only comfort he had was knowing the bard, for all of his follies, was typically smart enough to shield himself from certain danger.

Flicking as much slime and blood from his sword as he could, he made his way over to the portal to clash with the newest crop of monsters. Three of them were already advancing, mere paces away from him. He raised his sword, ready to intercept whichever of them decided to be bold enough to attack first. The one to his left looked like it wanted to be the tribute and he readied his stance when a voice pierced through the noise.

“Geralt, cover your ears!” Jaskier yelled.

The monsters were momentarily distracted by the new voice, but Geralt didn’t have time to turn around. He didn’t even have time to ask a question. They were too close. His only two options were to attack or to trust Jaskier.

So he chose. And he dropped his sword.

Falling to his knees, he dug his fingers as far as they’d go into his ears and the din around him began to muffle and quiet. He kept his eyes on the endregas before him and watched them look around in confusion, but none moved any closer. Then he saw their heads dip low and their legs give out. Soon, every single one lay on the ground motionless. A soft touch landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see Jaskier standing beside him, a smile of smug triumph on his face.

And his newly strung lute in his hands.

Jaskier chuckled. "What a way to start a marriage, eh?" He looked around at the sleeping beasts. "So, probably a good idea to just finish this lot off?"

Geralt nodded. "Keep your song at the ready, just in case." He wiped his silver sword in the grass before approaching the first sleeper. It was a simple thing to wedge the tip between a juncture in its armor and ram it in. _Shunk!_ "Yennefer could have saved me a lot of trouble if she'd given you this spell years ago." A bit of black goo followed the blade as he drew it back out. He'd already determined he'd need to bathe in a boiling bath after tonight, so the extra mess shouldn't bother him.

But Jaskier was still clean as a whistle. And the commotion had only tousled his hair to make him look even more impish and playful.

"Perhaps she wanted you to keep in shape?" he offered. He followed Geralt as Geralt picked his way over to the next sleeper. "But I won't pretend to understand her ways."

_Shunk!_ "She's not the only one," Geralt said with a grunt, then went to the next one.

"Are you talking about me? What about yourself?" Jaskier picked through the carnage to follow him. "Because what I think I heard was that you think I'm embarrassed by you, which is the most mental thing I've ever heard uttered."

_Shunk!_ "Don't know what you're talking about." This was why witchers should just focus on the monsters, Geralt thought. Talking was never his strong suit. _Shunk!_

"Oh, get off it," Jaskier said. "Geralt, I left Oxenfurt for a reason. Yes, it was a great place for me to get in trouble and carouse until my heart was content." _Shunk!_ "And then I tried my hand at teaching when the professors were done with me not turning in my assignments." _Shunk!_ "And then, one day, I was lecturing and I realized that I knew absolutely nothing about what I claimed to be an expert in. That my whole life had been nestled away in safe walls and I was living my life through stories that I had no claim to."

Geralt's arms were getting weary, and with no sign of the beasts stirring, he stabbed his sword in the ground and rested his forearms on it. "And I can give you those stories?" he asked, still irritated.

Jaskier opened his mouth to argue but held a hand up to let himself finish. "I was friends with some real knobheads back then, mostly because I was one as well. So when the question between showing you just what I was then and earning some extra coin to buy you a little bauble for your hair was upon me, the answer was easy, okay? Will you just look at the damn thing?"

Geralt grabbed at the back of his head until his fingers closed around the strap holding his hair. Deftly untying the knot, he pulled it free so he could examine it. The leather laces were soft but thick enough that they wouldn’t break after one use. They were secured to either side of a curved piece of metal, silver he guessed. It was engraved; ornate curling brackets on either side of a short phrase written in Elder Speech.

“I found an elven armorer willing to take a commission,” Jaskier explained as Geralt ran a thumb over the engraving. “I guess being back here awoke the scholar in me a bit. I used to write verse in Hen Llinge just to prove I could back then, you know. Trust me, they were all awful. Anyway, it says—”

“I know what it says, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

He couldn’t bear to hear him speak the words out loud. Not just then. Besides, the look in Jaskier’s eyes spoke just as loudly as his voice ever could.

“Right… well…” Jaskier faltered, looking away. “I’ll let you get back to your monster dispatching.”

“That was the last one.”

“So, what do we do now? Just wait around for the next ba—” He was cut off again by a loud sucking noise.

They both looked towards the portal to see it collapsing in on itself, shrinking smaller and smaller until it was little more than a mote in the air before disappearing with a sharp pop. Geralt wrenched his sword free, grimacing at the ichor still clinging to it. He’d give it a thorough cleaning later.

“It would seem we’re finished here,” Geralt said, his lips twisted into a teasing smile. “The ‘deed,’ as you say, has been done.”

Jaskier huffed and pushed at Geralt’s shoulder with one hand. They walked back into the main house together and found Yennefer waiting for them outside the bridal suite. The blue shimmer of magic across the door told them that she’d left the sound barrier active for the time being. Upon spotting the two of them, she released it. Her eyes scanned both witcher and bard, taking in the drastically different states of dishevelment.

“Did you save me a head as I requested?” she asked, instantly obliterating any pretense of caring for their wellbeing.

Geralt was ready with a sharp reply, but Jaskier beat her to it. “The lady may take her pick of any of the dozen and a half we’ve left in the garden.” He waved her off with an imperious hand. “Now, as for Geralt and myself, I believe we were promised a proper bed and the feathery softness of actual pillows so, please, excuse us.”

* * *

The hosts were more than obliging with providing warm baths in their respective rooms. Geralt wasted no time stripping down and scrubbing himself pink. Once he wrapped a towel around himself and rinsed the hair tie as well, he sat on the bed.

Elder Speech was a fickle language to learn. Context often dictated prepositions and possession, so the words themselves when used in decoration were shrunken and stylized, to the point that the casual observer who understood the language would ignore them altogether. The fluent reader, as well, understood the connotations behind other words. They wouldn't make the common mistakes that novices would. So, if an expert were to read the engraving, they would read:

"I pledge to follow the white truth."

Black or white, light or dark, right or wrong, iron or silver. The connotation of being a witcher meant that he dealt in absolutes, so no one would have reason to question him showing a dedication to truth.

But Geralt knew the writer of this line. Jaskier may be an amateur at Hen Llinge, but was no stranger to Elaine Ettariel.

_"To adore you is all my life_   
_Fair Ettariel_   
_Let me keep, then, the treasure of memories_   
_And the magical flower;_   
_A pledge and sign of your love._   
_Silvered by drops of dew as if by tears..."_

He also was intimately aware of the inscription on Geralt's silver sword:

"My glare will pierce through darkness, my brightness will scatter the shadow."

So, to Geralt, the words on the silver plate meant so much more.

_"Evellin a me aecaemm gwynaine,"_ Geralt said softly because he didn't have the strength to put his translation out into the world just yet.

_My pledge to follow the white sun._

Two soft raps on the door disrupted his musing. He stood. "Come in."

Jaskier slipped in, already refreshed in a clean, white undershirt and dark pants. His hair hadn't fully dried yet, but that hadn't stopped him from acquiring two goblets of wine. "Something to warm you on the inside?" he asked.

Geralt nodded and gestured to the fireplace. "Pull up a chair."

Only then did Jaskier notice the silver in Geralt's hands. He swallowed visibly. Considering Geralt's current state, he could have used a moment, but it was too little thought, too late to reconsider.

Geralt took a lengthy pull from the goblet before moving away from the bath to set it on the small table near the fireplace. It bought him only a few seconds to collect his thoughts. He stood, idly rubbing a thumb over the item in his hand.

“Pledges aren’t something I encounter much,” he says, speaking more to the leather and silver than his visitor. “Promises, yes, but those are often flimsy, fleeting and easily broken, like a promise to pay ten Crown per head for eradicating some drowners. Oaths seem to be only for those of strong conviction or strong religion.”

Jaskier sat at the table and ran his fingers over the top of his goblet. “Pledges are the sturdier, stalwart cousin of oaths and promises, second only to vows.”

Their eyes met then and suddenly the word ‘pledge’ felt like a paltry offering when it came to describing what was actually there. Even ‘vow’ provided confines too tight between three little letters for something so immense and intangible. This was broader. Deeper. Unfathomable. And they both understood that.

“You know, there’s no harm in showing me the person you once were.” Geralt broke eye contact first to take another drink. “I’ve a feeling I caught glimpses of him from time to time anyway.”

Jaskier laughed into his goblet and the resulting echo was weak and hollow. “I supposed that was more of a selfish desire on my part,” he admitted. “He’s not someone I want to see anymore. I much prefer who I am now.”

“Seeing as I have no basis for comparison, I’ll take your word for it.”

Jaskier laughed again. He reached his hand across the table to rest on top of Geralt’s for a moment. “Thanks.”

The bard got up from the chair, taking his now empty goblet with him. When Geralt saw he was headed for the door, he rushed after him. His hand wrapped around Jaskier’s wrist. Jaskier looked at him with eyes wide with surprise.

“I—would you—my...hair?” He was unable to summon the proper words to his lips. “Please,” he finished unsteadily.

Fortunately, Jaskier had somehow compiled an entire mental glossary for translating his expressions. Geralt wondered when he’d started, or if he’d been doing it the entire time. Perhaps, one day, he’d ask him. Tonight, however, he was content to be awash in relief as Jaskier’s own expression softened into a smile.

* * *

At breakfast the next day, the families insisted that Geralt and Jaskier stay for a few more days for the remaining, smaller festivities. Geralt nearly turned the offer down on the spot until Yennefer said that she would remain for a while longer.

"I need time to put together my findings." Then, in a lower voice, she added, "As well as give some instruction to the newlyweds on how pregnancy and childbirth truly work. I've seen too many conflicts born from misunderstandings on the matter. Raymond has also expressed a desire to speak with the two of you as well, so don't run away just yet."

They found the now-husband in the garden, sitting hunched over by the bench. The corpses from last night had been disposed of, but proof of the battle was still there in crushed shrubbery and black-stained grasses and flowers. “Congratulations, my good man," Jaskier said as they approached. Raymond looked up and gave a sheepish smile.

He was a round-faced, broad young man who shouldn't seem as dour as he was.

He stood. "Thank you so much, good sirs. My father will see you rewarded handsomely upon your departure, but I must beg for some more of your assistance."

"Whatever could be the matter?" Jaskier asked. "You broke an ancient family curse and secured a beautiful, feisty bride."

Raymond shook his head. "Everything that comes with that. I'm not a fool, sirs. Only so much of our families' animosities can be attributed to a curse. Humans are as much full of folly as they are passion and I have little trust in many of my uncles and cousins to fight those impulses. Julia is full of fire as well to bring peace to the families but fire only melts, sirs."

"Neither of us are experts in familial politics," Geralt said.

"But you are both cool under pressure," Raymond insisted. "Nerves of steel. Sirs, I may have been insulated from the chaos, but I saw the carnage that remained. As Julia slept, I stared out the window and realized that the hardest part was only to come. So I'm asking for you council, just for a day. To impart whatever wisdom you have."

Jaskier patted Geralt's shoulder. "I would love to hear Geralt muse about heroism for an entire day as well."

"Not just Geralt, but you as well!" Raymond said. "If The Siren of the Inn can keep his nerve to slay nigh a score of monsters, then there's hope for me as well."

Jaskier turned pale, his hand frozen on Geralt's shoulder. "H-how do you know that name?" he asked.

Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier, then looked to Raymond. "Do tell, in as much detail as possible."

Raymond chuckled. "Truly, I was too young to be there that night, but I was large for my age and my cousin insisted I come along. Jaskier was chatting away with some young lady, they were near the same size, and Jaskier was saying something about him having a... more impressive chest than her. She challenged him to still make that claim after wearing a dress like hers."

Jaskier buried his head in his hands and groaned.

"Continue, please," Geralt said.

"Well, then when they returned from the privy, Jaskier was wearing bright blue, and, well I suppose my young mind did believe him to have the more fetching cleavage if it wasn't for the surprising amount of body hair." Raymond flushed a bit while Jaskier tried to hide his face in his doublet. "Anyhow, merely being in the gown wasn't enough, because then he climbed one of the supporting beams and started singing about how lasses and lads alike would break themselves on the beam just to—"

"Is that quite enough?" Jaskier cried as he sank to the ground. "Is your curiosity satisfied yet, Geralt?"

"Hmm." Geralt grabbed the back of Jaskier's doublet and pulled him upright. "For now. But I suppose we should continue at the scene of the incident so I can picture it clearly."

"White Wolf, I will even find you a maid of the right proportions if that means you'll stay for a while longer," Raymond said.

"We'll stay?" Geralt asked Jaskier.

Fighting a grimace, Jaskier said. "Fine. Fiiiiine. But when I finally get to Kaer Mohren and meet Vesemir I will remember this and pay you back with interest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: neither of us are linguists especially in fictional languages, and one of us spent waaaay too much time trying to cobble together that phase. For the love of Roach be gentle.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it, I'm putting my foot down! No 7K one-shots, this baby's going to have CHAPTERS.


End file.
